


A Parting Gift

by janus_queen



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: (mild) Small Penis Humiliation, Cock & Ball Torture, Dom/sub, F/M, One Night Stands, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Post-Time Skip, World of Ruin, ballbusting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-11
Updated: 2020-08-11
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:53:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25836820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/janus_queen/pseuds/janus_queen
Summary: In the process of saying his goodbyes, Noctis finds himself at a loss for what to give Iris as a parting gift - except for one thing she's wanted for a long time.
Relationships: Iris Amicitia/Noctis Lucis Caelum
Kudos: 8





	A Parting Gift

**Author's Note:**

> I decided to step out of my comfort zone. Never too much cognitive behavioral therapy, right?

Time is scarce when there’s a madman to slay and a world to save, but Noctis could never be at peace with himself without saying his proper goodbyes. So, after his first shower in a decade, he began his rounds of giving parting words and gifts—mostly titles he could scrounge up and the occasional outdated bangle. Now that it's Iris’s turn, the gift is something...quite different. He had never entertained the thought before, but an idea had crept into his mind when Iris, now the powerful, lionhearted, and by all means beautiful Daemon Slayer, had made a flirtatious joke during a meal with the Crownsguard. Or, more of an invitation: “You could always stay at my place. It’d be my pleasure to show you the way—if you can keep up.” Despite whatever horrors the past decade had brought, her playful side persisted. Yet, her eyes were completely serious.

* * *

Noctis knocks on the door to Iris’s tiny abode. Following up on her invitation is the best course of action he can think of; not to be mistaken with a good idea. But what else can he do? He has no time for a veritable assessment of her growth in order to bestow an appropriate title. And soon enough, that decision will be out of his hands.

The door opens with a moderate creak. Iris greets Noctis, far less chipper than long ago but clearly elated, perhaps even relieved, to see his face. “Noct. Hey.” She smiles, staring for a moment as if to memorize his older appearance. “Oh, here. Come in.” She ushers the King inside her apartment, a humble room with one wall lined with weapons, another lined with sewing projects, a mattress against the third wall, and of course the door on the fourth. The lack of decoration is ill-fitting for her, Noctis thinks, but what does he know after being gone for so long? He sure doesn't know what the hell he’s doing at present.

“So,” Iris says. “This is...goodbye, I guess.” Straightforward as always. It stings a little. “But, still. I’m glad I got to see you. Before, well, you know.”

“I brought you a parting gift,” Noctis spits out before an awkward silence can settle in.

Iris turns her head to the side briefly. “I wish I could say I had the chance to make you something.” She faces Noctis again with a forced grin. “Don't suppose you need a new pair of gloves?”

“Actually, I got a pair of, um…” Noctis clasps his hands. “Look, Iris? I didn’t know what exactly I could do for you, so I uh…” Oh, this was definitely a foolish idea. Noctis stumbles over his words as his breaths shallow. “Your, er, that thing you said. Yesterday—two days ago; you know, it’s really hard to tell. What I mean is, your...invitation. I took that to mean—well, with how you…” He clears his throat as Iris stares, patient. “It probably sounds super conceited but, my gift to you is me. That is what you were hinting at, right? It’s all I could come up with and I…don’t mind, actually.”

Iris lets a thoughtful silence linger once Noctis finishes spitting up his word vomit. She watches his face, as if she’s waiting for him to burst into laughter, or maybe tears. Or both. Noctis could never read her perfectly, but he could read her well enough up until his disappearance. Now, it seems she’s perfected her emotional mask and throws it up like second nature. “Hmmm,” Iris hums. Her thoughtful expression eases into a satisfied smirk. “I’ll take it.”

Noctis’s stiff shoulders relax, then tense up again at what those words insinuate. “Right.”

Iris claps her hands together. “Alright, now strip.” Her voice is calm and her smile is bright, as if the situation is completely normal and there’s zero tension in the room. That boundless confidence is something to be admired and feared. Noctis nods slowly and starts to fumble with the buttons of his loose, slightly wrinkled suit. “You can toss ‘em there,” Iris says, pointing to her mattress as Noctis tugs off the suit jacket. The tie is the most difficult article to remove with shaky hands, a fact that draws a subdued giggle from Iris as Noctis struggles. From there, the shirt, pants, and underclothes come off easily, and land in a bundle on Iris’s bed.

And there Noctis stands, buck-ass naked in Iris’s apartment. Iris crosses her arms and looks him up and down, appraising him. “Huh.” It’s neutral, not demeaning or approving, but a vague feeling of failure crawls in Noctis’s skin. Or maybe that’s his conscience. If they were found out, Gladio would kill him before he even set foot in Insomnia.

“I always knew it was small,” Iris observes. “But I guess a part of me was hoping the crystal worked some sort of growth magic on you. Oh well, target’s a target.” With that, she swings her leg up, launching her foot right between Noctis’s legs.

Noctis doubles over, his breath lost. As the ache throbs in his nethers, he sucks in air with a hiss. “Shit!”

“Come on, Noct,” Iris says, and this time it most certainly is demeaning. “You can take more than that. You said you didn’t mind. Right, Your Majesty?”

At the very least, Noctis will leave this world knowing far more about Iris than he imagined he would. He forces himself upright. He is the King. He must remain true to his word, and allow Iris to enjoy her gift. “Yes. You’re right. Continue.”

“Not even a ‘pretty please?’” Iris asks. She kicks Noctis again, lighter this time, right between the balls. The King’s knees tremble. “How’s that?” Of course, Noctis forgoes giving a verbal answer in favor of flared nostrils and a suppressed whimper. Iris looks down for an assessment and sighs. “It really is so, so tiny. Don’t worry. I won’t tell.” Her eyes linger, like she knows Noctis will get hard any second. And he does. His meek little cock expands as the blood rushes, still tiny but now holding all Noctis’s pride. Iris is inclined to strip that pride away with a flourish, unlike Noctis’s slipshod removal of clothes. “Kneel.” A grounded third kick sends Noctis to the floor like a sandbag.

“Or that,” Iris says with a shrug. She prods the writhing monarch with her foot, rolling him onto his back. His heavy breaths are voiced, drenched with pain and, evidently, some degree of arousal as precum leaks onto his thigh. “See, Noct? You can take it.” The smile on Iris’s lips is both affectionate and dark, dancing on the line between that of a pure-hearted maiden and a huntress with her prey cornered. She rests her heel on the base of Noctis’s member, cautious not to get any of his fluids on her skin. “And you will take it. Pathetic wretch.” The insult makes Noctis throb, and more pressure from Iris’s heel makes him drip. A soft groan claws its way out of his throat, unabashed and delectable. Iris increases her force slowly, gradually smashing Noctis under her foot and drawing out a prolonged growl that transforms into an anguished howl.

Iris lifts her foot and then stomps again, and again. Noctis squirms under her, tears stinging his eyes and a flood of both pain and pleasure throwing his head into a spiral. He’s dizzy, hot, hard—face red and cock so swollen it might just fucking pop from the force of Iris’s kicks. The pain is overwhelming, yet part of him craves more. His hips buck, his body silently begging as his voice cracks from screaming. A final, pointed kick to the balls does him in. A sniffling, shivering moan falls out of his mouth as he comes, spraying his seed onto his thighs and the top of Iris’s foot.

In the respite Iris allows him afterward, Noctis gasps for his breath, scrambling to his knees like he’s lost a decisive battle in which he refuses to concede. But he does concede, staring mum at the wet streams on his thighs and the droplets on the floor. “You’ll clean it up with your tongue,” Iris says decisively, lifting her stained foot in front of Noctis’s face. She leaves no room for negotiation or refusal, should the King even attempt. He doesn’t, of course; he submits eagerly and drags his tongue across Iris’s skin, lapping up the bitter taste of himself like a ravenous zombie. When nothing but his saliva remains on Iris’s foot, he mindlessly drifts to the spot on the floor that he’d sullied. He flicks his tongue out repeatedly, efficient in cleaning the tiny marks he’d left. Finally, he looks up, brow furrowed with something between determination and bewilderment. Iris replies to his expression with a fond smile. “Good boy.”

Iris saunters to her mattress and begins gathering Noctis’s clothes, their quick and painful rendezvous apparently having no effect on her temperament. “That was fun, Noct.” She turns to him, and for a second it seems as if the darkness has already been lifted. Like peace still exists in this world. “That was a really thoughtful gift.” The next thing Noctis knows, a wad of clothes is striking his bare chest. “By the way,” Iris says with a glint of mischief in her eyes. “We scored some beer the other day and I maaaay have stashed a can away for myself. Wanna go halfsies?”

Sharing is caring. Aside from the fact that Iris drinks now...some things are the same.


End file.
